The Only Bush I Trust Is My Own

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Dear ASS

Dear Ass:

Are you depressed? Are you angry at me? Are you just tired and exhausted? What is it? Are there some anti depressants I can give you? Perhaps so entemans chocolate donuts (those help me through ANY bad time I am having). Just know I am here for you, I am your friend.

Lately you seem to be lagging, flattening. I thought at first that you could be just tired, but then realized that you dear ass, could just be getting.. god, I cant even say it.. OLD. I thought I was in the clear when after I had a 10 pound baby you were still perky and happy. I thought “wow my family actually does have ONE good gene”. But you have failed me. You have given up. You have let go of what is important. The view from behind.

I am now forced to fall into line with the other pancake ass women of my family, only, they were at least blessed with big chests. I have been left with nothing. Just a pair of old 501s that not 2 years ago looked fucking SPECTACULAR on me. You have failed me miserably, dear ass, and if it weren’t for the fact that you have given so much in your short plump lifetime, I would disown you.

That is all I have to say for now.

Jessica

PS: Free Mumia

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